


The Five Times Dean Questioned His Friendship With Gabriel

by Eden Marie Dawson (GodDamnedPlums)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Domestic, Fluff and Crack, Funny, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-12-18 22:19:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11883996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GodDamnedPlums/pseuds/Eden%20Marie%20Dawson
Summary: #1: Strange requests at 2am#2: "Accidentally" becoming a pet parent#3: Get down from there, you're going to break something!#4: It's just a sprained ankle, Gabe...#5: I don't trust those odds...**Or, the one where the author was in a seriously bad place & decided to write some crack-tastic Debriel fluff to cheer herself up. Enjoy! ♥**





	The Five Times Dean Questioned His Friendship With Gabriel

**#1 Strange requests at 2am**

_“You sure these things are gonna fit me?”_

_“That’s part of the attraction, darling… the way that the silk hugs your hips and shows off every delicious inch of that rock hard…”_

**I’m on the highway to hell…**

“What the actual…” Dean grumbled, fumbling for his phone on the nightstand, which continued to play through the chorus of the iconic AC/DC song. He knew by the ringtone that it was his best friend, Gabriel, calling him. They had set matching ringtones for one another back in Freshmen year because they were always being told that they were going straight to hell for one reason or another, be it their choice in romantic partners, disregard for societal norms, or in one case, their weird sense of humor, because apparently not everyone found it funny when you spray-painted the bat signal on the side of an abandoned building, then went around at three-am in black sweat suits and pillow cases for capes, claiming to be defenders of the night. 

“Gabriel, this better be good…” His voice was groggy and rough, almost as deep-sounding as Gabriel’s little brother, Castiel’s voice. He swung his legs off the side of the bed as he threw the covers off, eyes sweeping around to find the clock. Two-am. Son of a…

“It’s important, I swear. You wouldn’t happen to know where I can get some chloroform relatively cheap, do you?”

Now that made him pause, all thoughts of going to the bathroom to relieve himself flying right out the window. “…Why exactly do you need chloroform at 2am?”

“….For science?”

“Gabriel!”

“Fiiiiiiine! My cat is pissing me off and she keeps ruining all my spaghetti!”

“Goodnight, Gabriel.”

**#2 “Accidentally” becoming a pet parent**

“What do you mean he “accidentally” adopted five cats?” Dean was cleaning up the coffee he’d just spit all over the coffee table—and as a result, his little brother, who was sitting across from him. Sam grimaced as he took the tissue that Dean passed him, trying not to think about why the man had tissues stashed sporadically throughout the apartment.

“I mean that’s the excuse he gave me when I came home to find the house full of four-legged fur balls. He was only supposed to go to the store for milk, but I guess the pet store across the street was having an adoption fair or something. We’re now the “proud”, Dean snorted when Sam used air quotes, “parents of five cats ranging in age from kitten to adult.”

“You’re going to keep them all?” Dean settled back against the couch cushions. Sam sighed heavily and mimicked his brother’s actions, leaning his chair back on two legs. 

“Yeah. I mean, they’re cute, don’t get me wrong, but when I even suggested maybe finding homes for some and keeping just one, he turned the water works on and gave me a puppy-dog face that would’ve gotten Dad wrapped around his little finger. How the hell was I supposed to say no to that?”

“Good point.” Dean chuckled, knowing full well just how effective those damn goldenrod colored eyes could be when used properly. He’d been roped into a number of various things and situations he had to squeeze his way out of because of them.

“I think what’s worse is he’s named them all already.”

“Oh yeah? What are their names?” 

“Well, the solid white one is named Mallow, there’s a tan one with dark brown feet he calls Toast, a speckled one called Pepper, and a yellow tabby he calls Colonel Mustard.”

“And the fifth?” Dean asked as he brought his coffee cup back up to his lips. Sam sighed, rolling his eyes. “Well, since that one seems to have the most attitude, Gabriel has dubbed that one “cunt nugget”.”

Dean sprayed both the table and his brother with coffee once again.

**#3 Get down from there, you’re gonna break something!**

“Gabriel! What in the seven layers of hell do you think you’re doing?!”

“Aren’t there nine layers?”

“Avoiding the question!” Den snapped, watching his best friend continue to climb higher into the crooked-limbed tree that sat on the property of their old high school. They had been walking along when he overheard some kids, probably about fifteen or sixteen years old, making a bet about who could climb the highest. And Gabriel, being the big kid that he was at heart, decided to prove them both wrong when they doubted that an “old man” (seriously, when did thirty become old?) could even get to the third branch from the ground.

“I’m not gonna let some snot-nosed little brat tell me that I can’t do something, Winchester!”

“Well, then, I’m telling you not to do this!” 

“What did I just say?” Gabriel called back, ensuing laughter from the peanut gallery that had gathered around to watch the two. Dean chose to ignore the remarks that some giggling girls made about them fighting like an old married couple.

“Gabe, seriously, get down before you break your neck!” 

“Oh, will you relax, I’m totally fi---aiiiiie!” The thirty-one-year-old let out a cry that would have made a toddler envious as the branch he had been putting most of his weight on crumpled underneath him. He was a good four or five feet off the ground when the branch broke, sending him tumbling back down to the manicured lawn through a sea of curling branches that were less than accommodating to his fall.

When Dean finally pushed through the crowd to get to him, he found Gabriel cradling his right arm, but he had a shit eating grin on his face, despite the throbbing pain Dean knew he must have been experiencing. Before he could say “I told you so,” Gabriel came at him with something that had his face, neck and ears burning bright red.

“Always told you I’d fall hard for you, Winchester.”

**#4 It’s just a sprained ankle, Gabe…**

Rolling his ankle during a family soccer game had to be the most painful injury he’d ever sustained. Oh, the physical pain was numbed by copious amounts of Tylenol, but it was the playful ribbing he got from his brother and from his friends that really got to him. They didn’t tease him because he’d injured himself during a seemingly non-competitive game, but because Gabriel _insisted_ that he carry Dean through every threshold that he came across.

He put his foot down, literally—and painfully, he might add—when Gabriel tried to assist him into the bathroom stall.

“It’s just a sprained ankle…put me down.”

“No! It was my fault. I got in your way and caused you to roll it when you missed the ball, so I will make it up to you by carrying you through every door you need to get through.”

“So, you’re going to let me hobble to the doors, and then pick me up just to carry me across the threshold, then let me hobble around again?” He tried to point out the flaw in Gabriel’s logic, but it backfired on him—big time.

“You’re right… I Suppose I should just carry you everywhere then!”

“Gabriel… Gabe, no, that’s not what I meant!” He started flailing, desperate to be put down, even if it meant tumbling out of his arms and onto the concrete.

“Oh, relax, Dean. Picture it as practice for our wedding day.”

“What?!”

But Gabriel didn’t answer; he merely carried him down the sidewalk, ignoring Dean’s pouting and demands to be released, as well as the inquisitive looks of those around them.

**#5 I don’t trust those odds…**

“I’m 75% positive this isn’t going to explode on us.”

“Those are not comforting odds, Gabe… There’s still a fourth of a chance that this thing could blow our eyebrows straight to China.”

“Oooh, look at you, mister math genius.”

“He only knows fractions because he’s completely anal about making sure every slice of pie is the same, for maximum enjoyment of said pie.” Sam chimed in as he stood back against the wall, plastic goggles strapped to his head, a large sheet of plexi-glass standing between him and Castiel, and the “science” experiment that Gabriel was attempting to make for the town-wide talent show. Something that Dean was positive thirty-one-year olds should not be entering.

“Stuff it, Sammy.” Dean grumbled, arms folding over his chest. He was decked out in a white apron, stained with what he could only hope were various sauces that Gabriel had spilled on himself while working in the kitchen, and a similar pair of goggles to Sam’s. Gabriel was dressed in much the same, but he wore rubber, neon green dish washing gloves that went up to his elbows, and had his goggles pushed up so high on his forehead that the skin was pulled taut, making it look like he’d just seen a rat.

“Both of you hush. We need absolute quiet for this. One misstep and we could all be gone.”

“What was it about those 75% odds, again, Gabriel?” Castiel chimed in from the far corner, closest to the exit should things really go bad.

“So maybe they’re a little under 75%....”

“So not making us feel any better, Gabe.” Sam rolled his eyes. Dean chuckled, shaking his head at the two farthest from him. When Gabriel gasped, Dean’s attention was diverted back to the concoction he was brewing. He still didn’t even know what the hell it was supposed to do, or what was in it.

“Quick, c’mere!” Gabriel waved him over so that they could watch the reaction. The beaker contained a dark purple liquid, that whenever Gabriel stirred it, started to fade into a light lavender to almost milky white color, just before it started to bubble and smoke.

“…Gabe…” Dean backed up, noticing that Sam and Castiel had already booked it out of the room. He was sure he wouldn’t be too far behind them in a minute. “Gabe!” He snapped when the mixture started to practically glow.

Gabriel, who had been reading something on his phone, tossed it onto the table and rushed back to the table. With a litany of curses leaving his lips, Dean took it as a cue to step as far back as possible, but Gabriel didn’t have the same opportunity. Just as he reached for the beaker, removing it from the stand, the concoction exploded in his face, sending a plume of smoke into the air.

When Dean was finally able to clear both the air in the room and his lungs, of the smoke, he made his way over to where his best friend was laying on the floor, hair frazzled and sticking in every which direction, skin dotted with purplish ash, and his eyebrows completely wiped from his face.


End file.
